


Don’t Say A Prayer For Me, Nick. (Save It For The Elephant)

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [2]
Category: Duran Duran, Duran Duran (Music Videos)
Genre: Blowjobs, Developing Relationship, Filming, Fluff and Crack, Frolking, Games, Holiday, M/M, Missing Scene, Nakedness, Pining, Sexual Tension, Splashing about, Teasing, Water, elephant - Freeform, handjobs, music video
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 09:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21426037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Who’s genius idea was it to ride an elephant anyways? Oh right, John’s. Nick was more than ready to get him back or, to make the most of the moment: with teasing hands around John’s waist and cut hips flush up against his back.Plus splashing each other in the lake, that’d be fun too.
Relationships: Nick Rhodes/John Taylor (Duran Duran)
Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075265
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Don’t Say A Prayer For Me, Nick. (Save It For The Elephant)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allmywill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmywill/gifts).

> For Allie and her totally normal, non-negotiable need to have more wet Nick Rhodes in her life. <3

“Who’s bloody idea was this anyway?”

The two men stood facing a murky pool, the jungle aroma rich and sending tingles through both eager bodies.

Nick pivoted as he felt a large hand clap his shoulder. The smirk plastering John’s face answered his question.

“Shit.” He breathed, turning back to face the lake.

Nick stepped forward then knelt down, running a hand through the gloomy water; watching with interest as his own reflection formed and contorted.

He saw John kneel behind him, not that he didn’t already know. Nick could always feel John’s presence. Usually he’d blame his love for Paco Rabanne: the distinct scent would always radiate from John and, if Nick was being honest, choke him a little. But he’d become so used to it that he knew John was heading his way from half a mile or so back. It was routine, persistent and oh so, _John_.

But now he was shirtless, light blue trousers clinging to his lean figure. If anything he smelt of the earth, the soil and the heat. There was no aftershave taking over. He was au natural for a change and Nick, Goddamnit but did Nick like it.

They had been instructed to get into the water. Nick was a little hesitant at first, feeling as though he was under scrutiny in his little blue vest and barely there shorts. He cocked his head, flicking his amber locks from his face, to take in the sight of John. John, who was grinning like a loon. Nick could tell that he was just itching to get in the water, immerse himself in the filth. Either that or he was planning something. It was probably both.

“After you, mi’lady.” John held out a pale hand, taking a bow.

“Wanker.” Nick breathed, knowing full well John had heard it and was trying to stifle his own laughter.

John had a beautiful laugh. It would be loud and wild as he threw his head back and closed his eyes to thoroughly enjoy his moment. It was a shame he didn’t laugh as much on camera.

Nick noted, he’d have to get the beautiful, beaming Nigel smile out of him during today’s shoot. Whether or not the camera caught it, well, that wasn’t his concern.

He had been lost in thought. Only the swift shove bought him back to reality: half submerged in the grime.

“Fuck sake, John!” Nick couldn’t help himself. He was laughing as John followed, in what was more or a crappy belly flop than any form of graceful dive.

They splashed about a bit, treading water as Nick tried to scurry away. But John had longer limbs and, it seemed, he knew his way around a pool much better than the keyboardist. Wherever Nick paddled too, John was already bobbing there with a firm smirk plastered to his face.

They were well and truly soaked. John somehow had snuck up on Nick, probably whilst he plotted his next move himself, and full on pushed him down. Nick slipped out of his slick grasp, with a laugh, before flinging himself around and shoving John further into the deep.

Nick was thankful that John was in much further, the water lapping high up. Only John’s face and shoulders were visible.

“You wouldn’t like it over here _big_ brother,” John let it linger as Nick rolled an oddly un-lined eye, “it’s far too _shallow_ for your tastes.”

Nick was about to shoot back his retort but he was beaten too it. The director was yelling to them, apparently pissed for having lost the light or something- Nick didn’t care. He just wanted the shot of riding this damn.. where even is it?

“You ready?”

Nick pouted, running a hand through his ruined hair. “Yeah, let’s just get this shot over with. You owe me big time, Johnny.”

“Fine!” John narrowed his eyes and cocked his head, clearly overthinking, “in the next video, _you_ can run around in a blazer without a shirt looking for Simon. Deal?”

Nick chuckled, catching the sunlight. He ducked his head and dog-paddled his way over to John. Casually, he lay a slick arm against his lean frame: for balance. Purely balance.

John didn’t seem to mind. He wrapped a long, gangly arm around Nick’s waist. Nick let himself be tugged in even closer.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. Nick couldn’t help but feel a little shaky as he was told what to do, where to hold, what to do if she freaked out and, more importantly, to smile and act natural. As if riding an elephant was as normal as riding the 45 bus through Birmingham day in day out. Totally normal, nothing weird at all about it.

He silently cursed the animal lover within John.

“It’ll be alright. Just cling to my hips and smile!”

Goddamnit again, John’s smile was infectious. His eyes were gleaming, threatening to bug out of their sockets as they fell upon the literal elephant in the room.

Nick tipped his head up, green eyes wide and spooked. “Fucking hell.”

Together they clambered on, John in front as instructed: the prettiest had to have the limelight here. Not that Nick really minded. He was more than happy to hide his fear behind John’s naked and dripping torso.

Take one: The elephant nearly bucked the two of them straight off. John was laughing, like a maniac, as Nick slid forward and gripped at his hips harder.

Take two: The elephant, Nick was calling her Daisy in his mind, stood and slowly took them on a stroll... away from the camera.

“Fuck.”

“Turn you.. that’s it, _that’s_ it.” John petted her, smiling like a Cheshire cat. He threw his head back to survey Nick. “She likes me.”

Nick just rolled his eyes as she began to trot, or something of that nature- he didn’t know, and he again slumped forward. This time he and John hit heads.

“Christ, Johnny.” Nick rubbed at his forehead as they both giggled. “Giggling like idiots riding an elephant. What the hell is this?”

John hesitated with a pout. “Our exact situation. In this moment.”

  
“Ah!” Nick schooled his face into a quizzical expression, “And I thought fame was about successfully selling records not mounting these poor crea—“

”Shit!” They both yelped.

At that, before Nick could comprehend it, the two of them were showered in murky water, having been tossed up and bought back down by Daisy in one swift move.

Nick was howling, as was John as he pointlessly wiped at his face. John ran a smooth hand through his soaked hair, shoving it out of his way.

“Jesus Christ!” John leant forward, inches away from her ear. “Next time, luv, warn a guy!”

“You really _do_ flirt with everything that moves, don’t you Johnny?” Nick teased, lightly tapping his shoulder to emphasise.

John swung his head back as he shuffled, Nick’s hips flush against his back. He rose both eyebrows as his little sexy smirk tugged at his plump bottom lip.

“Fairy.” Nick coughed out, voice hitching at the sudden body heat.

They were both soaked, Nick’s thin shirt was sticking to him. How could John be radiating all this warmth? How was he running so hot?

Nick heard someone, lost in the crowd, yell something that vaguely resembled that they loved the shot. Great, now they were insistent on the two of them being showered by Daisy and her intruding trunk.

Take after take, they rose from the water and clambered on with, impossibly, less grace than the time before.

Nick could no longer control his laughter. He clutched tighter to John and in response, John leant further into his touch so that his back was pressed against Nick’s chest. John shook his head every once in a while, little droplets raining down from his hair all around him. Nick’s hand lurched forward, wrapping itself in the light brown locks and he yanked John’s head backward. John laughed, throwing his head back into it, jolting into Nick’s grasp.

“Ah, fuck!”

At that Nick shoved him back forward, a little too forcefully, that John lost balance and almost fell off of Daisy completely. He clutched at her thick skin, nails scraping. The crew were howling too as John steadied himself and unceremoniously flipped Sri Lanka off.

Somebody boomed: “just one bloody more. Poor thing must be exhausted!” Obeying, Nick and John dismounted.

With little grace, they mounted her a final time. Daisy was more than obedient, seeming to enjoy her time in the spotlight. She rose, cautious and elegant, to her full height. John clutched at her skin and Nick wrapped his arms around John’s soaked sides. He pressed himself into John who groaned. Nick’s eyes flung open, looking down at the near non-existent space between them.

Then, with a devilish grin, he retreated. He watched John shiver, momentarily distracting himself by shaking his hair from his face. Nick crept up behind him again, smirking when John pressed back into him. He heard another groan, softer this time. Nick couldn’t help but moan.

Daisy flung back her trunk and both men revelled in their final soaking. John was cackling, head lolling back as the water pelted them: Nick held on tight and too, was laughing with mirth.

What nobody heard was John’s shaky breath of ‘fuck me’ amongst the rain storm.

When Nick began to pull away, he was immediately stopped. Still sat atop of Daisy, in front of the camera crew, John had reached back and had a not so subtle hand on him. From the angle and the height, it looked near completely inconspicuous but to both Nick and John, it was far from innocent.

Daisy lowered them, they slid off of her with the odd grunt.

John gave her a final caress, muttering, “thank you for your gracious time, luv.” Nick couldn’t keep quiet at the adoration in John’s voice.

It was adorable and a little odd but it was John. So very John. Nick let him have this tender moment and besides, he was right (not that Nick would ever admit that out loud) Daisy really did seem quite fond of his baby brother. Just adorable.

They were handed towels and directed to the path that would take them back to the main trail where Simon was likely dancing with some scantily clad girl for the sake of the lyrics having any meaning. Nick took the lead. They were walking for a few minutes, muttering sweet nothings about the shoot, planning their next moves and then Nick led them around a secluded corner. He whipped his shirt off to wring it out.

At that, two huge hands yanked him from the trail, shoving him up against a palm tree.

“The hell, Jo—“ He was silenced, stunned.

John’s mouth enclosed around his, his tongue forcefully parting his lips. Nick caved within an instant, moulding his compact body into John’s hunched six foot, one inch of raging fire. John had two slick hands at either side of his head but he felt anything but trapped.

John broke away, a thin trail of saliva pooling between them as they parted. His lips dived for his neck, delivering hot and insistent kisses to Nick’s naked flesh.

“You think that’s…” He paused to lick at Nick’s clavicle who dropped moan after slutty moan, “fuckin’ _funny_, Nicholas? Huh?”

Nick’s eyes zeroed in on John, the fire in his eyes. The desire shining in them.

”Fucking funny to _do.. that_ to me.” He insisted, voice dropping to a dangerously seductive Brummie tone.

“Yes, yes I absolutely do.” Nick replied, voice booming in confidence.

Both men tried to act like their pulses weren’t rabbiting, that the lust pooling between them was purely another high, not one worth exploring.

They just stood there, faces flushed and panting, mere inches apart. Too far apart. Finally, John broke their intense gaze with a smile, looking down at his feet. Nick met it with one of his own taking John’s razor sharp jaw in his hand and angling him back up to meet his face.

“You need to be reigned in sometimes with those ideas, Johnny.” Nick pointed an accusatory finger at him, pouting.

“Who, me?” John feigned his surprise. “If I did do that, how else would I get you to grab hold of me and grind those fucking _delicious_ hips up against me? Tell me, Nick, how else would I get to feel that in public?”

Nick knew John was kidding. He knew that John was fully aware he could have him whenever he wanted. He just had to say—

“Fuck!” Nick groaned out as John claimed his lips again, a hand shot down to clasp the tent in his shorts. “N-not.. here.”

“Too late.” John was rutting up against him, rough and forceful.

Nick couldn’t stifle his moans with John, _all_ of John, rubbing himself against him so beautifully. The touch of him, the persistence of his hips... Nick was grinding up against him too, body contorting to find the right angle. He imagined the curve of John’s spine, embraced the elongated curve of his throat as John threw his head back; shutting his eyes.

“Nick.. I, I don’t think.. that I’ll” John was cut off by an intruding hand. “_Fuck_” He bellowed.

He bucked in time with Nick’s strokes, panting heavily into his neck. Nick’s other hand clutched at his back, digging into it, nails raking in wild patterns.

“Come on. _Come_ for _me_, John.” Nick egged him on, picking up speed.

Nick’s touches were ruthless, merciless. He’d have John convulsing in his grip within moments. John’s pants graduated to moans which voiced how close he was.

“N-Nick, I’m gonna—“

John’s hips jerked violently. He raised a hand to his mouth and bit at it as he climaxed, crying out, seeing stars behind his eyes and drawing blood. John’s panting was harsh, the aftershocks had him jolting.

He pulled away and immediately flipped them. Nick figured it was so he could stable himself up against the bark. But John’s tongue.. shit, it sucked all the rational thoughts out of his head. When had he even tugged his shorts off?  
  


John’s tongue swirled, whirled, in random patterns that had Nick inching into him, sliding himself further into his throat. He tipped his head back as John sucked harder and, he shuddered. 

“Christ, Nigel!”

His orgasm crashed over him, the waves of pleasure so intense that his knees almost gave way. John, the champ, swallowed every last drop.

Rising back to his feet John was breathing heavy, wiping the remnants of hot, sticky fluid from his mouth. Nick was seeing spots, trying to engage with John’s blurry figure.

When he could sense John’s lanky frame from the tree again, Nick realised that, as always, he looked even more incredible in his post orgasmatic glow. He was mellow, sinew, ready to collapse and mould himself into Nick. Nick chuckled as John yawned.

“Better put your clothes back on!” Nick stated, heading to retrieve John’s trousers from the sand beneath his feet. When had John taken them off?

“Too tired,” John plopped himself down. “_You_ do it.”

Nick rolled his eyes, barely able to hide his smile. He dropped to his knees and crawled over, slow and seductive, eyes darkening as he let a deft hand rest atop of John’s thigh.

He inched his trousers upwards, hands wrapping themselves around the deep ridges of the bassist’s hips as he raised them. Nick bid farewell to all those gorgeous extra inches and hunted for his own shorts.

The hunt proved momentarily futile. Nick paused, biting his bottom lip. He pivoted on his heel to John, smirking. He was holding out a hand, the tiny fabric dangling from those torturous fingers.

A fight was on to retrieve them. Nick sent John on a roll, sand sticking to them and invading any and all crevices. Eventually, Nick had John pinned. He yanked his shorts from him and slid them on. Nick wiggled his hips, teasing, before settling back on John’s chest. He watched as John’s hair soaked up the sand, little flakes of it sticking to him.

“We really must get going, John.”

With a huff, John rose and Nick helped him to his feet. Nick again took the reigns, taking only two steps before he was whisked around. John crushed their lips together, mere seconds of heaven on his tongue, before withdrawing and sauntering straight past Nick. Sauntering straight back to the trail.

Nick watched his silhouette go, a grin caressing his face. He leant down to retrieve his shirt and then, he was right beside from John, his deft hand massaging the bassist’s callouses the entire trek back.


End file.
